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Akito wakes up warm.
It's a different warmth than the one provided by his covers and the heating. This warmth permeates through the air, sinking into his body and loosening his muscles. It’s the warmth that makes him feel comfort and safety, one he stupidly assigns words like home and love. He's far from home, and he's not really made to be loved, but he can't help but feel like he's cradled in a warm embrace.
Regretfully, he opens his eyes; he can’t stay like this forever, lulled into a haze by the atmosphere. He’s greeted by an off-white ceiling and warm, yellow brick, novel and familiar at the same time. He slowly sits up, blinking away the sleep and taking in his surroundings. He rubs his eyes, because everything is so vibrant it feels like he’s wearing rose-tinted glasses. He’s sitting on a minty green couch with a striped blue pillow on top, colorful posters line the wall, the frames they’re in just as vivid. It all looks like candy, a sweet invitation that beckons to indulge.
“Good afternoon, Akito. Was your nap enjoyable?” Toya greets, voice warm and sweet as he sits down next to him. He’s wearing a comfy and stylish look, with overalls and a hoodie in colors that match with the interior pretty well.
“Yeah, ‘t was nice.” He straightens up his crumpled jacket, similar in shade to the wall, but in a more vibrant yellow.
“Would you mind feeding the cats? I’ll grab some of the pastries Azusawa bought today and prepare us drinks.” Toya adjusts the pillow he slept on with a smile.
“Sure.” He gets up from the couch and goes to get the cat food. Something fuzzy brushes his legs as it darts between them with every step, and he takes extra care to walk cautiously. He picks up their bowls along the way, sighing affectionately at how impatient they are.
“Jus’ a moment, Shina. Why can’t ya wait nicely, like Hima always does?” The names roll of his tongue easily, his lips habitually shaping out the foreign sounds. Toya loves comparing him to them, their fur a similar ginger shade to his hair. He quickly fills their bowls with food and places them down, chuckling at how eagerly they push their faces into the food.
“Done,” He notifies Toya and heads back to the living room. He spares a glance at the windows, wide open to let fresh air in. He slides his jacket further down his shoulders.
Toya’s waiting for him at the couch, with a plate full of sweets, as well as their drinks. Akito takes a swig of his iced tea as soon as he can reach the straw, wrapping his hands around the cold glass. It’s good, but it doesn’t do much to cool him down.
“Azusawa said the tarts are really good.” Toya slides the plate towards him. Akito picks one up and bites into it, sugary crust crumbling on his tongue and sweet custard filling melting in his mouth. The pastry’s still warm, and he briefly wonders how long ago it was made.
“These’re nice,” He mumbles out, mouth full; he quickly finishes chewing and swallows. Before he takes another bite, he sips at his iced tea again. It tastes sweeter than before, though it might be from the lingering taste of custard still coating his palate. He finishes the rest of the pastry without paying the sugary sweetness much mind. He adjusts his jacket again, fanning himself briefly with the material.
“She’ll be happy to hear that you like them too.” Toya sips on his own drink, unbothered by the heat. Akito wipes some sweat off his brow.
“She’s got good taste for sweets.” He wipes his hands into his overalls and picks up his glass again. The tea’s already warmed up a lot, but he sips on it anyway.
“Both of you have quite the sweet tooth, don’t you?” Toya chuckles, placing his glass back down. The ice cubes swirl inside, clinking out a soft melody against the glass.
“Yeah, but she usually gets crazy lattes that barely count as coffee. I jus’ like a good dessert.”He places down his own glass, too, and watches as the thin layer of melted ice mixes in with his tea, ever so slightly dulling the color. It's an odd sight in a place this vibrant.
He picks up a cookie from the plate, twisting it around in his fingers. It's a sugar cookie with some strawberry jam on top, and it's even sweeter than he expected. He feels sugar crunch beneath his teeth, covering his tongue with saccharine sweetness. He almost wants to throw up.
“We're back!” The door bursts open, An happily announcing their return. She trots into the living room in a flurry of minty candy and berry deep blue, dragging a peachy pink shape behind her. She hugs Kohane tight when she stumbles from all the pulling, making the other giggle.
“Good afternoon, you two. Did you sleep well, Shinonome-kun?” Kohane greets, voice slightly muffled by An's chest. At this rate, she's gonna strangle the poor girl.
“Yeah, I had a nice nap.” He picks up another cookie, frowning at it. The first cookie was probably a fluke, some factory defect. He never found a dessert that's too sweet for him.
He bites in carefully. The cookie crumbles into pure sugar, filling his mouth with rotten sweetness.
“Do you like them?” Kohane asks, watching him like a hawk. “I made sure to pick up your favourite brand.”
He forces himself to swallow and nods. He looks at the remaining half, briefly wondering when the jam became so jarringly pink, before shoving the rest of it into his mouth. It’s for the best to get it over with. The sugar clings to his lips, as if trying to seal them shut. He picks up his warm, diluted tea and washes the sugar crystals off before they can silence him. He places back the glass with a dull thud. The vibrations travel, making the ice cubes in Toya’s glass jingle softly against the walls.
He unhooks a strap from his overalls. The denim stops clinging to him as tightly.
The heat doesn’t let up.
“Are you guys also feelin’ hot?” He finally asks, even though it feels like an admission of defeat; it’s a test, and he’s choosing to fail it. This isn’t what he’s supposed to do.
“No, I don’t. Are you okay, Akito?” Toya gets up from his spot to lean over him, hand coming up to check his forehead.
“I dunno why, but I feel really hot,” He admits, voice hushed, “‘S almost like I have a fever.”
Toya hums lightly as the dorsal side of his fingers brushes against his forehead, unsticking his bangs from his sweaty skin. Toya’s hand drifts lower, cradling his cheek, before stopping on his neck. Two warm fingertips press into his pulse point as Toya’s eyes flutter shut in focus. Something feels off, as if a fundamental rule of the universe has changed, but his hazy mind can’t tell what that is. He squints, hoping that limiting his field of view to only Toya will help against the vivid assault of colors that’s making his head pound. Toya’s his partner. Toya’s going to help him. Toya wouldn’t hurt him.
There’s a presence on his right side, and he turns his head to meet a blur of berry and peach and creamy white. He blinks a few times, and the shape slowly morphs into Kohane.
“Shinonome-kun,” She starts, her sweet, sweet voice tainted with sadness and pity like a spot of rot on a fresh strawberry. He can’t tell why she sounds like this. Why can’t he read the emotions on her face?
He’s about to ask her what’s wrong, but before he can Toya’s palm covers his throat, fingers pushing into his pulse point, warm against his clammy skin. A second warm hand joins the first, and then Toya’s leaning closer to him, pressing into his throat and cutting off his airflow. He tries to pull Toya away, but his hands move as if through molasses and all he can do is weakly hold on to Toya’s wrists as he gasps for air.
“Shinonome-kun, why are you so cruel?” Kohane's voice drips with overripe sweetness, and it only makes him nauseous. “You know how awful it feels to have everyone turn on you. Why did you do the same to me? Why are you no better than those who were cruel to you?”
He tries to say something, anything, but he can only gasp against Toya's grip, clawing at his hands with his dull nails. He needs his throat, he needs his voice, he's nothing if he can't sing.
Toya doesn't care about his silent begging.
He tries to reach out to Kohane, in apology and plea alike, but she moves away before he can touch her. Tears bead in his eyes as he tries to pry Toya off him, again, but nothing comes of it.
“Why did you lie, Akito?” An's usual chipper tone is replaced by something plasticky sweet, too saccharine and too vividly colored to be real. “Why didn't you just say Kotaro pulled the plug? I would've believed you. I know you don't take shortcuts. Why did you have to fuck it all up?”
A weak cry slips past his lips as he tries to respond. He can't leave them hanging, not when they're asking him these questions. They deserve an answer, they deserve to know why he's like this; they deserve to hear him beg for forgiveness because they're so much better at singing than he could ever hope to be and they don't have to keep him around. He doesn’t want them to be mad at him.
“Akito.” Toya's voice, soft and sweet like cotton candy, wraps around him in a gentle hug. His hands drop down into his lap, all of his energy sapped out of him with a single word. “You should've realized that your words would have this effect. You were my partner, after all. You should've noticed that your comments were affecting me as well.” Toya's knee comes up to rest on his lap for extra leverage as he takes a hand off his throat to tuck a sweaty lock of hair behind his ear. The touch is extremely gentle compared to the force on his throat, and a small whimper makes it past his lips.
“Akito. If you weren't so impulsive, so quick to judge, you could've had everything. A partner, a team, people to rely on.” Toya's hand returns to his throat, pushing down on his windpipe with more strength. “Instead, you'll stay alone, forever unsatisfied. It's a suitable fate for you, don't you think?”
He searches Toya's eyes for any hint of mercy. They're cold, perhaps the only thing not taken by the feverish heat that also took over his body. He tries to push Toya's knee off himself, but he can barely move his hands onto the berry toned denim.
“Go to sleep, Akito,” Toya commands, voice as soft as the hand that cradled his face moments ago. “You should return back to where you belong.”
Akito listens, he always does when Toya tells him to do something. He closes his eyes, Toya's icy stare burned into his hazy mind.
Akito wakes up cold.
He must've kicked off his covers in his sleep, and the heating is off since it's the beginning of summer. The days have only been getting hotter, and Taiga-san keeps reminding him to hydrate well. Hospitals in the US are expensive, so he doesn't want to end up there.
He shivers, covered in a thin layer of sweat. A glance at his clock confirms that it's too early for his run, so he sits up to get his covers back.
A phantom hand wraps around his throat.
His hands shoot up to his neck, only to find nothing there. Carefully, he traces his fingers along his pulse, then over his windpipe and Adam's apple. There's nothing there. There's no pain. That feverish heat and candy colored nightmare wasn't real.
He drops down to his bed, mind stuck on steely grey boring into his soul.
There's one place where he belongs, and it's not here. That place is long gone, too far for him to reach, forever destroyed by his own actions.
A suitable fate for him, indeed.